


in my dreams (i always see you)

by marvelleous



Series: tumblr prompts [8]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post 5x06, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 06:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13335660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelleous/pseuds/marvelleous
Summary: She's afraid to close her eyes, for she doesn't know if she will ever have a chance to open them again. The only consolation that exists is, even if she should gaze out into the world once more, it will not have changed, still a desolate plain of death and destruction. Her fear of death encompasses her, but it isn't the worst possible outcome she can imagine.





	in my dreams (i always see you)

Melinda had been afraid of death for as long as she could remember, but she had never imagined she might die like this, stranded on the surface of an earth that had mostly crumbled away, years into the future, likely to end up as food for the horrific roaches that inhabited this barren wasteland. She's not prepared to go down without a fight, but her body is battered and bruised, the injury to her leg likely infected, if the throbbing pain is any indication, and realistically, she knows that she won't be able to survive for much longer.

Not here, not alone.

Perhaps it was because she had gotten so used to being part of a team because she can't come up with a solution that doesn't involve help from somebody. She may be able to live a few days more on her own, without food or water, if she finds somewhere to hide away, but she knows it's only prolonging the inevitable. There is no way she is getting out of this one by herself, no matter how stubbornly she continues to trudge on in the darkness, ignoring the way her body screams for a break, searching for something, anything.

It's quite harrowing, forcing herself to fight on, despite how little hope truly remains. So what if she survived a day longer, for sooner or later her body would give out and she would die, lost in this post-apocalyptic future, forgotten by the rest of time.

She doesn't regret having not been given the chance to say goodbye to those who meant the most to her because the finality of a farewell would have taken the last of the fight from her. Right now, she still clings on to the possibility of someone coming to find her. Even if they are too late; she concedes to herself that she will spend her final moments of consciousness pleading with them to pass on a message for her. It's funny that now she knows how little time remains, there are a multitude of things she wants to say.

There is no telling how far she has stumbled before she finds somewhere to hide, a small crag beneath some rocks, just enough for her to sit beneath, leaning back against the sharp stone and willing herself to keep on breathing.

To stay awake.

She's afraid to close her eyes, for she doesn't know if she will ever have a chance to open them again. The only consolation that exists is, even if she should gaze out into the world once more, it will not have changed, still a desolate plain of death and destruction. Her fear of death encompasses her, but it isn't the worst possible outcome she can imagine.

If her team were to perish too, and this future stayed a reality, then there would be very little point in trying to survive. So as much as she wishes that they might come for her, she also hopes that they put the future of all humanity first, and save the world as they had done together in the past.

For if she passed knowing that they were safe, then she would find a little peace, even in death.

 

* * *

 

She tries so hard to stay awake, but little time passes before she falls into unconsciousness, succumbing to a myriad of strange dreams.

 

* * *

 

_Her eyes slowly flutter open, the bright light around her making it difficult to see, but she can still feel, knows the sensation of another hand cradling her own._

_Phil is there, beside her, looking more relieved than she has ever seen him, and she doesn't even try to conceal a smile as he bends and presses a kiss against the back of her hand._

_"I'm so glad that you're okay," he says, and she tries to pull him a little closer, wanting nothing more than his company after feeling so alone for so long. He reaches towards her, brushing a thumb across her cheek, and she wonders if this is it, after so many years of waiting, the moment they should finally come together._

_Phil leans in to kiss her, and she doesn’t push him away._

 

* * *

 

She knows it isn’t real, just her decaying consciousness trying to give her a little reprieve in her final moments. The thoughts are too surreal, but she allows them to continue to pan out, imagines what it might be like to be with a man she has loved for so long.

Her only regret is that she had not permitted herself such an opportunity before, when it seemed like they still had so much time. What is left of her awareness doesn’t try to fight as she allows the images in her mind to take over, to pretend that this is truly happening, that she’s been saved and he cares for her as much as she does him, that they can be together now.

She knows it isn’t real, because she’s seen this scene before. It was the last thing on her mind before her heart was stopped, and the first thing she pictured when she came to, not seven minutes later, in a darkened laboratory.

How foolish she was to not tell him then; because perhaps if she had, then maybe she would not be here now, seeing not her life flash before her eyes, but rather what has become her greatest regret.

 

* * *

 

He cannot stop thinking about her.

They're dancing together, in another city, in another lifetime, and little compares to the feeling of his arms around her as they sway together, blending in with the crowd around them.

She had looked up into his eyes and they had smiled at one another, feigning a romantic connection, always for the mission.

He wishes he had told her then, how he felt about her, pulled her in close and kissed her as he so wished, because all this waiting and fear has only lead to them being pulled apart, ripped away from one another before they could ever begin.

If anything more happens to her, he doesn't know what he will do. He tries to push the morbid thoughts away in his mind, concentrate on the greater task at hand, but the memories of her linger, clouding his senses and judgement. They didn't deserve her, he didn't deserve her, not her courage and loyalty and certainly not her love.

The pain in his heart is almost worse than in the moments before he died, because after all they have already given up for others, did they truly not deserve a moment to themselves, to be honest and to find a little happiness in their lives?

The cynical part of him thinks that the world is the cruellest to those who were good, and it's the reason why Melinda, the best person he knows, has been left to die while others continue to breathe on. He wants to scream that it isn't fair, but knows the only way he can change this is to be strong, to not give up, to keep going no matter how bleak the future seems.

He's already seen what it looks like at the end of the world; he can't imagine things might get any worse.

 

* * *

 

She’s in bad shape when they finally come across her, lying beneath dirt and rocks, breathing ragged and uneven. Her skin is freezing yet burning at the same time, and no one fights him as he lifts her unconscious form into his arms, relief flooding his senses upon seeing her once more.

He hears Simmons remark that she doesn’t look too good and the fear returns.

Because he truly believes the universe would be so cruel as to allow them this short reunion before taking her from him once more.

This time, forever.

 

* * *

 

When she opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is Simmons, whose face is hovering not six inches from her own. She takes a deep breath, ignoring the burn in her lungs, as her younger teammate leaps back in shock, blinking furiously for a few moments before her instincts appear to take over. Melinda tries her best to lie still as she is poked and prodded all over, though it isn’t too difficult considering her limbs feel like lead. 

“I’m fine,” she mutters, as the examination continues, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes as Simmons scoffs.

“You, are most definitely not fine. I mean, we thought you were dead when we found you, so you’re better now, and if it were up to me, I would have you on bed rest for the foreseeable future.”

Melinda zones out a little as Simmons continues to prattle on, looking around at her surroundings, trying to piece together what must have happened after she passed out. It doesn’t escape her notice that the rest of her team is nowhere to be seen, but there really is only one person she wants to speak with right now, and whereas she may have been content with waiting a little longer before, she is not willing to let the opportunity slip away from her again.

“Where is Phil?”

Simmons' eyebrows rise significantly, and her expression changes from surprise to smugness, and then sheepishness as she shrugs her shoulders slightly.

“He refused to leave your side, was constantly in my way actually, and he wouldn’t go and get any rest, so Daisy may have suggested slipping something into his food to help him sleep. He’s been out for about half the day.”

She isn’t surprised that Daisy is the one who suggested drugging Phil to get their way, but is thankful that they had his best interests at heart when doing so.

“Where is he?”

Simmons tries to protest as she pushes herself out of her makeshift cot, ignoring the dull ache all over her body and concealing a wince as she puts a little weight on her injured leg. She’s far from being one hundred percent, but the withering look she shoots in Simmons’ direction has the intended effect; that she would not hesitate to gently knock her out in an escape attempt and find someone else to help her.

“I’ll take you to him.”

 

* * *

  
Phil looks peaceful in his sleep, chest rising and falling with each even breath, otherwise still beneath the thin sheet that appears to be doing very little to keep him warm. She counts the seconds that pass as she tries to figure out what she might say to him when he finally does awaken, and spends a moment smiling to herself at how odd this situation is, a complete reverse from her expectations.

Two hours go by with him showing no signs of waking, and she feels herself growing weary. The pain medication is fading away, and the exhaustion is catching up with her.

In this moment, she doesn’t think her actions through.

She lies down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, placing a palm against his chest. The ridges of his scar can be felt through the material of his shirt, but the steady thrumming of his heart soothes all her fears and worries. She was right in assuming that the sheet that now covers them both was redundant in its usage, and tells herself it is just a desire for warmth as she curls up closer against his side.

This time as she closes her eyes, she isn’t afraid, because she’s finally taking what she wants.

 

* * *

  
When she comes to again, this time it is a gentle touch that awakens her.

She allows her lips to tug into a small smile before she opens her eyes, seeing the very sight she has imagined for so long. Phil is lying on his side, propped up on one arm, while the other is still around her, his thumb rubbing small circles against her back. She doesn’t speak as she looks into his eyes, just savouring the moment, something she hopes she will have the opportunity to experience again and again, every morning for the rest of her life.

“I thought you said you wanted a night in your own bed,” he says softly, finger curling around a strand of her hair before he draws his hand away. She catches it with her own, interlocking their fingers as she takes a deep breath.

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

A look of delight appears on his face, and she wonders if it would have been this easy had she told him how she felt all those years ago. They’ve taken to expressing their feelings through actions and not words, and so easily have their actions been misinterpreted in the past. She can’t imagine he would misjudge this moment now; she had practically crawled into bed with him; how much more obvious could one get? He doesn’t respond though, just continues to watch her, as if she would disappear in the blink of an eye, and she gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

She wants to tell him that he means a lot to her, that she wants nothing more than to be at his side for as long as they both shall live, but words have never really been her strong suit, and he doesn’t appear to raise any objections as she tugs him closer and closer, until their foreheads are touching, the tips of their noses brushing.

Their first real kiss is short, soft and sweet, a gentle press of her lips against his, and it really shouldn’t leave her feeling so giddy in the moments afterwards, but it does. They pull apart and just look into each other’s eyes, conveying all their emotions through a meaningful look. When he kisses her afterwards they’re a little less hesitant, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as he rests a hand on her lower back, holding her close to him.

They’re both exhausted, physically and mentally, and she has a long recovery ahead of her, so they do little but lie side by side and kiss. Passionate would not be the correct word to describe their actions; romantic and endearing aren’t quite right either. The truth is, the feelings between them can only be shown through the way they act towards one another; nothing in any spoken language would be enough to encompass their relationship.

He does tell her that she means everything to him, which is as close as it gets.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) If you enjoyed, I always appreciate kudos or comments :D You can send me prompts through my tumblr.


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